<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>True Love Is Where You Find Security by Wholocked96</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975208">True Love Is Where You Find Security</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholocked96/pseuds/Wholocked96'>Wholocked96</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Health Issues, Insecurities, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Security Guard Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, minor PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:06:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholocked96/pseuds/Wholocked96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The blond was here. He’d come back again. He was looking at a different portrait this time, but his bag was open again and he’d pulled out colored pencils, rather than just the charcoals he’d used in the past. The couch he’d claimed today allowed the light from one of the tall windows to spill over his work, illuminating his golden hair and silhouetting him perfectly against the dark corners of the room. If you’d asked Bucky four months ago, hell, even two weeks ago, if he could ever have been a poet he’d have laughed at you. But ever since meeting the short, adorable blond Bucky had found himself getting a little crazy with the comparisons and inner monologues about his beauty."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The View From Afar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another silly little AU, let me know what you guys think! I will always love WinterSoldier!Bucky with pre-serum!Steve. Sorry if it seems a little rushed at the beginning, editing didn't really happen.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The job wasn’t nearly as exciting as Rumlow had made it sound, but it was a job, so he wasn’t going to complain. After all, an army pension only got him so far in Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Bucky had lost his arm and been discharged from the army he had gone into quite a funk, he wasn’t going to deny that. He’d finally managed to change his fate just a little by signing up for some experimental prosthetic work. He unconsciously flexed the metal fingers that lay on the security desk. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with it, but it had been connected to his nervous system in ways he didn’t really understand, so he was able to move it as if it had always been a part of himself. It had been really nice to have two arms again, plus the metal made him feel pretty badass if he was honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After getting used to the prosthetic his days had become pretty restless, so to get out of his cycle of working out, watching tv, and being bored, he’d asked Rumlow about work that might be good for an ex soldier. Rumlow had managed to help him find this security job at a tiny art museum full of boring old stuff. The people watching wasn’t bad, and at least it was a different kind of boring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So that was how Bucky Barnes came to be sitting in a worn out chair, security cameras playing on the screen behind him. The jacket that was part of his uniform always bothered him, it restricted his metal arm a lot, but still revealed enough that it made him a pretty effective security guard. He rarely had to do more than look a little disappointed or stern and flex his left arm when people got too rowdy. Rumlow had told him stories about some people trying to steal some of the paintings or sculptures but Bucky had never had an issue with that, at least not yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yawned and glanced at the clock on the wall next to the security desk. He had another three hours on his shift. He stood and stretched before deciding to do a quick survey. He scooped the trash that Clint, the second security guard on duty and the only one Bucky ever seemed to work with, had left over from his extended lunch and tossed it in the trash on his way out the door. He moved past the bathrooms, through the quiet hallway that led to the security room and janitor’s closet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked slowly, but purposefully through the rooms of the art gallery, years of military training and speciality work had increased his ability to walk with complete silence and he had learned to be a little louder when approaching people after scaring several different viewers. He passed the sculpture room, watching carefully for any suspicious people who might be around before he moved on to the others. He left the portrait room for last, trying to convince himself that it was for completely innocent reasons, even though he knew it wasn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes scanned the room and he couldn’t stop the grin from lifting his lips. The blond was here. He’d come back again. He was looking at a different portrait this time, but his bag was open again and he’d pulled out colored pencils, rather than just the charcoals he’d used in the past. The couch he’d claimed today allowed the light from one of the tall windows to spill over his work, illuminating his golden hair and silhouetting him perfectly against the dark corners of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If you’d asked Bucky four months ago, hell, even two weeks ago, if he could ever have been a poet he’d have laughed at you. But ever since meeting the short, adorable blond Bucky had found himself getting a little crazy with the comparisons and inner monologues about his beauty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky took up a spot near the door, under the guise of watching a school group that was wandering, so he could admire the man from afar for just a little longer. He’d only gotten close to him once, he’d had the job for a few months at this point, but hadn’t noticed the blond until sharp hacking coughs had rang through the building one night last week near closing. Bucky’s military instinct had kicked in, and admittedly not a small amount of PTSD, as memories of death rattles filled his mind from days past of being stuck in a small camp in the desert, no medical supplies and limited rations. He’d hurtled around the corner, scaring a few other viewers as he rushed towards the sound. It hadn’t been until he’d dropped to the ground in front of him, the medical training he’d picked up kicking in, and gone through several questions, that he noticed the inhaler next to the small man. He’d been waved away, but hovered close until the hacking had subsided. He couldn’t help but notice how pale the blond had gone, his thin lips had even gone white, but somehow he’d managed to pack up his messenger bag and leave. Bucky hadn’t missed the trembling in his fingers, or how he clutched his chest on the way out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had taken hours until he’d finally been able to calm down and push back the images in his mind. That night had been filled once again with nightmares, blood, tears, and his own gasping breath. He’d even called out of work, afraid he might have another episode if he heard those coughs again.  But the next time he’d seen the blond it hadn’t triggered an episode, it had triggered something entirely different. Four nights ago he’d caught sight of the man again, he’d been nervous, but glad when no asthma attack hit him. Bucky had wandered into the portrait room and been caught completely off guard by the man’s presence, now that he wasn’t distracted by his PTSD. Looking back Bucky wished he’d had the presence of mind to actually take in the man’s features while he’d been close, he’d only caught glimpses since. Glimpses of those long, thin fingers scratching across the page of his sketchbook. Glimpses of the way his left hand would reach up to brush away that one stubborn lock of hair that always fell into his eyes. Glimpses of the way he’d rub his temple as he contemplated his next few strokes, glimpses of the way grey smudges would always end up on his cheek after he’d dropped his hand again. Bucky watched, often through the security cameras, as the man would survey the room around him, almost searching for something. He’d noticed when the man turned slightly and flipped his sketchbook to a new page before starting on something new, his chin moving up and down slightly as he glanced at whatever had drawn his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky had also caught a glimpse of his messenger bag on one of his security rounds. The blond had pinned several different things to the strap, one of those things was a rainbow pride badge. That had sent Bucky into a spiral. His mind reasoned that it was totally possible for the man to just be an ally, but his imagination went wild. In a short week it had turned into a bit of an obsession, with him completely powerless in stopping the desire to find out more about him, to take in the color of his eyes and the expressions in them. But the closest he’d managed to get since the asthma attack was when he’d accepted the man’s annual pass two days ago as he’d taken a quick shift at the metal detector while the usual attendant went on break, and the man had barely seemed to notice him, he’d stared at the ground and mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as Bucky handed back his pass. That interaction had frustrated him a little bit, the man hadn’t even noticed him, but he’d been quick to remind himself how intimidating he could look with his new arm, and it was hardly likely that the man wasn’t taken, considering how breathtaking he was. He was hopeless, daydreaming about this man when he hadn’t even had an actual conversation with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky sighed and pulled himself out of his thoughts as he noticed a young girl and her mother approach him. He tried to smile, but that never really came easy to him since he’d gotten back, another reason why he made such an effective security guard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, my daughter was wondering if there are any children displays where she can learn a little more? She’s a bit of a tactile learner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded and led the pair out of the portrait gallery to the children’s corner a few rooms away. By the time he’d managed to return to the portrait gallery the blond was gone. Bucky returned to the security room and rewatched the security footage, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t being creepy, just curious. Yup, just minutes after he’d moved the blond had packed away his stuff and left, through the same door that Bucky had been standing by. If he hadn’t moved he might’ve been able to actually have a conversation finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s heart hammered as he left the museum and stumbled along the crowded streets till he reached his apartment. He didn’t know why he kept getting distracted at the museum, he normally stayed for far longer, and even Sam was starting to notice. It was getting in the way of his work, but his heart would speed up randomly, and he was having a lot of issues concentrating. He couldn't help feeling that familiar pang of frustration with his health issues, but shoved it down, if he kept thinking about it he would have another asthma attack, something he definitely couldn't risk happening at the museum again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam swung around the doorway to the kitchen when he heard Steve set his bag down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? You’re back early? Did you have another attack?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve rolled his eyes as he pulled out his sketchbook again. “No, I’m not a baby, Sam, stop being annoying. I just got distracted and couldn’t focus, I’m gonna do a bit more work here.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve frowned as a smirk settled across Sam’s face. “Was that security guard there again?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe Steve did know why he kept getting distracted at the museum. It was hardly his fault, who wouldn’t fall hopelessly in love with someone who showed that much concern over an asthma attack? Sam was the only one who had ever shown that much worry, and his worry had decreased a lot since they’d become roommates. Even through the panic that asthma attacks brought Steve had been amazed by the guard’s kindness, his dark eyes filled with worry. If Steve hadn’t been in the middle of an attack he would have been tempted to draw that expression until he’d gotten it right. Not that he hadn’t tried, but those attempts would forever be a secret, Sam already teased him enough as it was. Besides, he’d only gotten a few glimpses of the guard’s face, and never with that expression again, so it was hard to replicate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve rolled his eyes, purposefully avoiding Sam’s question as he moved toward the living room. He took several deep breaths as he felt his heart rate return to normal, the irregular beats making it harder to calm himself down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, you’ve been talking about this guy non-stop, I don’t get any gossip?”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve flipped open his sketchbook without saying anything, trying to seem absorbed in his work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam huffed and threw a pillow at him. Steve just grabbed it and slipped it behind his back for more support. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finally looked up, annoyed. “Sam!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His roommate glared, though Steve could see the amusement behind it. “Can I at least go with you next time you go? I want to see if this guy is all he’s cracked up to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you quit it? He’s not the reason I go to the museum and you’re more distracting than anything when you go. Besides, you don’t have an annual pass like I do. I go there for inspiration and to work, not to be annoyed by my best friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, like your work is really going to suffer if I go with you once. You’re obsessed with this guy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not!” Steve knew the heat creeping up his face betrayed him completely, but he refused to admit it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam suddenly crossed the room with a smirk and held out his hand. “Give me your sketchbook then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve instantly clutched the book closer to his chest. Sam ripped it away in spite of that. He flipped it open to the last few pages and grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, not obsessed at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned the book so Steve could see what he was looking at. Not that Steve needed to see it to know that Sam had found his unfinished sketch of the security guard standing vigil near the door. His face was blurred-Steve had forgotten to put his contacts in that morning-but he had tried to replicate the glint from the metal hand and wrist and that detail alone gave away who his model had been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve lunged forward and reclaimed his sketchbook. “Shut up, Sam, go away, I’m trying to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you alone if you let me go with you next time, hell, maybe I can help set you up with the guy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve glared at his friend, who knew that his insecurities about his health would never let him feel like he had a chance with anyone. How rude to use that as a bargaining chip. “Leave me alone and I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam just laughed and went back to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve stared down at his sketch. The man really was breathtaking, he had a presence to him that just screamed control and ability. And his arm, it was incredible, where had he gotten an arm like that? What had happened for him to even need it? Steve huffed and flipped the pages to where he had an unfinished commission. He was supposed to go to the museum to work on his commissions, not to daydream and stare at random security guards. If he was going to make his portion of the rent this month he needed to get it together. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Happenstance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clint had taken the seat in front of the security cameras when Bucky had gone out on another round to stretch his legs, unfortunately that didn’t keep Bucky from catching sight of beautiful blond hair as it came through the metal detector. It had been nearly a week since Bucky had seen him and he instantly wanted to find an excuse to walk around again, just so he could stand in the portrait gallery where he knew the blond would settle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so wrapped up in watching the blond enter the museum that he didn’t notice the taller darker guy until he had thrown an arm around the blond’s shoulders. Bucky instantly felt his stomach drop. He’d known this would happen, it happened every time, the pretty guys were always taken, why did he do this to himself? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t realize that he’d sighed until Clint turned to throw him a look. “What’s up, big guy? Sound like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky just shook his head. Clint was used to him being a little moody, though he was nice enough to not ask why most of the time. “Just tired. Restless today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clint nodded with a quick glance down at his metal arm, and turned back to the feed from the cameras. “Not a very busy day, huh? You gonna do another walk through? I don’t feel like moving, plus I want another snack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky huffed a little, both in amusement and frustration. A few seconds ago he would have jumped at the suggestion, but seeing the blond with another guy threw him a bit, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go out and see how happy the blond was now. But Clint didn’t want to move, so that didn’t leave him much of an option. One of them was required to do a walk through every thirty minutes, it had been almost twenty five since Bucky’s last one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and huffed again. “Yeah, you just relax, I’ll do your job for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I like working with you, Bucky.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky rolled his eyes and left quietly. He took his time walking through the rooms, helped a little older woman find a particular painting she was looking for. It had been nearly twenty minutes when he finally made it into the portrait gallery. He focused on keeping his face impassive as he flicked his eyes across the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was always so breathtaking, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever get over it. He always seemed to pick the spots where the sunlight hit him directly, almost giving him a halo when it shone through his blond hair. Bucky forced himself to stop staring, but still took up his usual spot near the doorway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were laughing, the darker man was rolling his eyes and grinning. The blond seemed less amused, but still had a fond smile as he shoved him gently. There were several moments where the darker man let the blond work in silence, Bucky watched as a smudge appeared on his cheek. It was adorable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t realize he was staring again until suddenly the darker man caught his eye. Direct eye contact wasn’t something Bucky was used to after he’d been discharged, and he panicked just a little before he jerked his gaze away. He’d been caught, that never ended well. His instinct was to instantly turn and walk as fast as possible as far away as he could get. Unfortunately, his intelligence training kicked in, nothing made you look more guilty than running. He turned his attention to a few girls who were gathered around a few pictures of old princes and kings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As focused as he was on not looking toward the blond and his companion he didn’t notice when the darker guy walked toward him. If he hadn’t been trained to stay still and not show surprise he would have jumped several feet in the air when he was spoken to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, man, cool arm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His body instantly went rigid, but he focused on keeping his breath even as he tried to smile at the man. He couldn’t even admit to himself that the guy wasn’t good looking, his dark skin made the colors in his clothes pop, enhancing the angles of muscles and strength beneath them. Bucky’s thoughts instantly went to the scars that covered his own left shoulder and torso. This guy probably didn’t have even hints of scars, his flawless skin was obvious. Bucky couldn’t have been more opposite from this guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what else to say, but the guy didn’t leave. Bucky slipped his hands behind his back in a casual parade position as he continued his surveying glances around the room. After several awkward moments of silence he finally looked back at the guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything I can do for you?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought I recognized you, and my friend, Steve, he’s the blond, mentioned that I might know you, but I can’t quite place you. I would think a metal arm would make you stick in a guy’s memory, ya know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugged, just trying to get the guy to leave him alone. “The arm is fairly new, if that helps. I honestly can’t say I know you off the top of my head, but I’m not really the social type.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy hummed and then turned slightly to face the room, following Bucky’s gaze. “What happened to your original arm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If any more tension went into his jaw he might crack a tooth. “I don’t like to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough. I served as a pararescue, came back in one piece, but I get that some stories aren’t worth retelling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugged again. This guy just couldn’t take a hint. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When did you get back? I mean, the military persona is kinda hard to miss.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He forced his shoulders to relax a little. “About three years. Intelligence, not military.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” The guy turned to him in surprise. “I definitely had you pegged as army. Intelligence, that’s some scary shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky finally met the man’s gaze again, he let the sarcasm filter into his tone. “Yeah, I have a metal arm that can testify to that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you lose it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Classified.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made the man chuckle, and then he frowned a little. “You know you remind me a lot of one of the guys I used to go to VA counseling with. Super cool guy, but got snippy if you asked too many questions, he lost his…” Suddenly the guy trailed off and turned to face Bucky completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind went on high alert instantly, he had no idea what the guy was going to say next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa… You’re… Bucky Barnes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension left his body and was replaced firmly by confusion. “Yes… who are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was unfair how bright those brown eyes could get. Bucky couldn’t help the flood of jealousy, of course they would be together, both of them were breathtaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes lit up as he laughed and held out one hand. “Sam Wilson, I was in your VA group. I think you’d been back… six months, something like that when you joined. You dropped off the map after a while, what happened to you? You cut your hair, it looks great! And how’d you get an arm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky self consciously ran his flesh hand through his cropped hair. Not quite regulation standards, but much shorter than his shoulder length shroud that he used to have. He’d hated that stupid VA group, he never participated and going only made him feel worse. He hardly remembered anyone, he’d only kept in contact with Rumlow, and that only because the idiot wouldn’t leave him alone. Sam Wilson, whoever he had been, hadn’t even made an impression. But he couldn’t really tell Sam that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s right, good to see you again. I stopped going after a while… got to be too much to deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was still smiling as he nodded. “Dude, I get that, I moved to being a counselor and some of the stories… the military throws some bad shit at you. Especially you, you never actually told anybody there what happened to you overseas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugged again, finally relaxing a little. “Wasn’t worth retelling. I’m glad you’re still there though, you seem like you can really help people.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try,” Sam shrugged and turned to throw a glance at the blond. “Only so much I can do, but I help where I can.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded, his confidence coming from an ingrained ability to improvise and read people rather than any memory that he had. “I’m sure you’re still as modest as you always were.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got a laugh out of Sam and Bucky looked away again. He got lost in his thoughts, trying in vain to push out the thought of this man with the blonde. His insecurities were getting better but this scenario seemed to crush all the progress he’d made in believing in himself since his accident. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice the blond approach them, didn’t hear him until he was right next to Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, stop bothering people, you said you’d behave if I let you come with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was sure the oxygen had been ripped completely from his body, he just stopped breathing. With that one sentence he’d been punched in the gut in the softest way possible, it didn’t hurt, just knocked the breath so totally out of him that he had to consciously remember how to breathe again. Whatever he had imagined that voice sounding like in his head, he had been wrong. It was silky, smooth, trembling just slightly, deeper than he had expected to find in such a beautifully slender willow frame. It washed over him like the gentlest but strongest gust of wind, reverberating in a tingle down his spine and to the tips of his fingers. The man’s eyes were bright, just as blue as he had remembered, and they flickered over him briefly before they rested on Sam. Emotions rushed through him faster than he could process them, shame, insecurity, jealousy, a brief flash of joy that he merited even a glance from those eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He forced his eyes away and clenched his metal fist in a brief bid to settle himself. He consciously had to tune back into the conversation so he didn’t miss anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t bothering him, I knew Bucky a few years ago, I was just catching up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took an embarrassingly long moment before Bucky processed that Sam hadn’t mentioned meeting at the VA, that was nice, it gave Bucky the chance to not start out with the worst of his life. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself viciously, he didn’t have a chance with this vision of a man anyway, it didn’t matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, you know Sam?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question directed at him stunned him and it took several seconds for him to choke out the response that was expected. He’d worked through harsh desert conditions, in life or death situations, but suddenly his reliable skills and instincts quit on him. He cleared his throat and did another sweep of the room with his eyes, just to avoid that piercing gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we met soon after we both got discharged, same VA meetings.” Since he didn’t have a chance with this guy there was no reason to hide how messed up his head was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, what branch did you serve in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His sweep ended and he was forced to meet those eyes again. There was a soft smile sitting on those pink lips, an underlying </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> shining through his earnest expression. All those years of training to read body language and expressions completely wasted because he had no idea what that expression meant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Government intelligence, I worked closely with a couple branches of the military, mostly marines and army, but I wasn’t technically enlisted in either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” He glanced down at the ground and then back up at Bucky quickly. He seemed to push out his next thought with effort. “Is that where you got your arm? I’ve just noticed it, you probably get a lot of questions about it though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at the question. The quiver in the man’s voice heightened just a little but Bucky still couldn’t figure out quite what it meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do, but it’s okay. I lost my arm in the service, got this one after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m so sorry, I just-” He cut himself off and glanced back at Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The expression in his eyes dropped briefly, and Bucky recognized a plea for help from the darker man. The tremor in the baritone grew more pronounced. Sam came to his rescue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my gosh, Steve, you’re ridiculous.” He rolled his eyes and threw a grin at Bucky. “He wants to draw your arm, the artist won’t be satisfied until he knows how to get the reflection and the angles right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky managed a chuckle, but his chest constricted and his stomach dropped a little more. He was only ever interesting because of his arm, it wasn’t him, it was the machinery that he was only just barely accepting as part of himself. He shoved the degrading hurtful thoughts back into their box in the back of his mind and forced a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I’ve never been much of a model, but I get it. I’ve gotten used to people being interested in it. You have no idea how many people ask to just touch it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The self-deprecation shone through a little stronger than he meant for it and the light died just a little in the blue eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re not comfortable with that, it’s okay, I’ve just thought it was beautiful, and I love new challenges, plus it’s gotta have some crazy stories behind it, those would be cool to hear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugged, not quite sure how to take this. He hadn’t been this off his game since before his last tour. “I guess they could be, I’ve never thought about it like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam snapped his fingers suddenly and shoved the blonde’s shoulders gently. “Hey, what if Bucky came over tonight, you could show him some of your work there. Riley’s coming over too, he’s gonna make that curry mix that we liked for dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde seemed to consider that before he shrugged and titled his head indecisively. “I don’t know, I was planning on being here pretty late and all you and Riley do is make out, it’s uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam just laughed and shook his head before turning to Bucky. His hand came up as if he was going to punch Bucky’s shoulder too, but he apparently thought better of it and his hand dropped again. “What do you say, robocop? Come over, it’ll be fun. When does your shift end?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caught off guard he answered the easiest question first. “I have close today, not overnight, so around nine when the gallery closes…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Solid! It’ll be perfect, Steve can show you where our apartment is at and I’ll let Riley know it’ll be a little later than usual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s expression matched Bucky’s feelings, though he hoped his expression was a little more controlled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-no, it’s fine, it’s- I’m sure he’s- you don’t have to agree to this, Sam’s just pushy, you can say no.” It took visible effort for Steve to close his mouth, and he instantly dropped his gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky found the anxious expression so endearing and beautiful he didn’t realize he was speaking until it was too late to stop himself. “That could be fun, I don’t get out a lot… I won’t be able to stay too long, but dinner could be fun…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde, Steve, looked up at him in unadulterated surprise, blue eyes wide, one hand came up and pushed his hair back off his forehead. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ended up simply tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and dropping his gaze again. It’s a beautiful expression on a beautiful face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam hardly misses a beat. “Awesome! Well, I gotta go, but you just text me when you’re headed home, Steve, don’t get lost or beat up in an alleyway. I’ll have Riley come over a little early, so make sure and text me.” He winked at Steve then laughed as Steve blushed and rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky was a little mesmerized by his blush, it started at the base of his neck and spread to his ears, then to his cheeks. It was beautiful. And for some reason fit him perfectly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t need any more encouragement than that apparently, and quickly slapped another hand on Steve’s shoulder before nodding at Bucky. “See you guys later, don’t have too much fun.” Another wink at Steve, and the color in his cheeks got even deeper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam only laughed and spun on his heel. He disappeared through the doorway, leaving Steve and Bucky together in extreme confusion, if Steve’s expression was anything to go by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took about five seconds for Bucky to fully understand what he’d agreed to and then the anxiety completely overwhelmed him. He took a couple of steadying breaths before looking back at Steve. “So, I’ve gotta get back, um, so, yeah…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Are you sure you wanna come? Sam can be pushy, you seem uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was pretty intuitive, and the first time that someone had correctly read him in a long time. He couldn’t decide if that was because he was uncomfortable enough to have let his guard down, or simply because the blonde had actually read past his mask. It only took a moment to realize that his face was still schooled in the neutral expression he normally used. Steve was even more amazing then he realized. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made him crack a little bit of a smile. “I’ll be okay, I just… don’t get out a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes filled with surprise along with something else. “You’re actually willing to come? That’s a first, normally Sam’s plans don’t work out that well.” A nervous laugh, and those artist fingers went through blonde hair again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky cleared his throat and shrugged, trying for a smile again. “It was Steve, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve blushed again, and, hell, he could get used to that. “Yeah, Steve, I didn’t catch yours though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shoved his metal fist into his pocket. “Um, technically it’s James, but I go by Bucky most of the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve smirked a little, and damn, that was a sight too. “Most of the time?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dug deep, trying to find that confidence that his intelligence time had instilled in him. He shrugged his shoulders and hoped for nonchalance. “I’ve gone by a lot of things, Barnes, Sergeant, ‘that asshole with the gun’, and my mom calls me Jamie, but no one else gets to use that one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jamie, that one’s cute. But Bucky is nice. My mom used to call me Stevie, so I get that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His reply was interrupted by his radio cracking in his ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yo, Soldier boy, you’re looking confident with the flirting and everything, but we have a situation at the front desk, Kate needs customer control.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was caught between the desire to burn with embarrassment or punch Clint in the face. As it was, he rolled his eyes and hit the button to reply. “Understood, enroute, and shut the fuck up, Clint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned with a grimace back to Steve, who was chuckling. “Sorry, got a situation I gotta deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded, grinning. “No worries, I’ll just be doing my stuff, ugh, I guess, let me know when you’re ready to go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded, grinning a little. “Sounds good, I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saluted a little, by force of nervous habit, and turned to walk out the door, rolling his eyes at himself. He used to be so good at this shit, hopefully he could pull himself together by the end of his shift, otherwise he was just going to end up embarrassing himself.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>